


An Experiment in Friendship

by JennK



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1195386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennK/pseuds/JennK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes suggests that he and Watson take a "scientific" approach toward exploring their new found feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I arrived at 221B Baker Street late that night. Despite Holmes' new case, I had to take an urgent house call. A girl, age nine, went into an epileptic fit, and her mother called pleading for me to rush to her aid. It was a rather jarring experience. She was the worst case I'd seen in all my years as a physician, requiring three injections of lorazepam before returning to normal. Her mother, in tears, thanked me again and again.  
I headed back, my heart filling with both the relief that she was alright, and the dread that had I arrived a minute later she would have died. Feeling shaky, I hoped Holmes would either be asleep (doubtful) or so entranced with the case that he would pay me no mind when I came in.  
I opened the door to find the lights off. I tiptoed through the apartment, and peered into the bedroom. The bed sat empty. Unsure of what had become of my friend, I decided to pour myself a glass of whiskey and relax before heading home. When I reached for the bottle, I noticed a tall, dark figure sitting at the table.  
"Oh dear God!" I shouted.  
"It's only me, Watson," Holmes growled.  
I hesitated before turning on the light. Holmes did not move. He remained with his elbows on the table and his hands covering his face.  
"Is everything alright?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder.  
"No, everything is not alright," he said. He looked up at me, his eyes flashing with anger.  
"What happened?" I sat down across from him. His anger faded into despair.  
Holmes said nothing. I offered him a glass of whiskey, which he drank. Then slowly, he sat up, revealing his long torso.  
"Openshaw, the young man who brought me the case…"  
I looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Yet he made no eye contact with me and said nothing. "Holmes?"  
Finally, he slid a newspaper clipping across the table.  
I scanned the story. Openshaw was found dead near the edge of the port. The police ruled it an accidental drowning, but I knew immediately that this was not the case. The boy's father and uncle had already succumbed to the wrath of a mysterious organization called the K.K.K, and the boy had come to us with a warning as well –an envelope with five dried orange pips.  
"I failed him. He came to me for help, and I failed him," said Holmes, his voice cracking.  
Startled by this unusual display of emotion, I grabbed Holmes' hand and said, "No, you didn't. You did all that you could in the time that you had. If he had come two days earlier, when he got the letter—" I thought of the girl and her brush with death. It sent a chill down my spine. Had I been here to help Holmes' would Openshaw be alive? We couldn't have saved them both…  
"I've never lost a client like this." Holmes' lip quivered. He quickly brushed the tears from his eyes.  
I squeezed his hand. "You mustn't blame yourself."  
He took his hand back and rubbed his face. "How was your house call?"  
"Oh, uh." I wrung my hands, unsure of how appropriate it was to tell the story. "A little girl had an epileptic seizure, but she was alright after a few injections."  
Holmes nodded slowly.  
I desperately wanted to comfort him, but I knew he was unreachable. I wished I'd learned violin so that I could soothe him to sleep as he had done for me after a particularly exhausting case.  
He got up and went for that little silver case –the one with the hypodermic needle.  
"Please don't, my dear Holmes. It won't absolve you."  
"It will temporarily," he said as he prepared his infamous seven percent solution.  
"Hand me the needle," I said harshly. He did as I asked, and I slipped it into my coat pocket. "See, you're alright without it."  
But he wasn't. He covered his face with his hands and burst into sobs. I led him to the bedroom and sat down beside him on the bed. He had stopped crying, but his breathing remained irregular. I put my arm around him, as any good friend would, and gave him a squeeze.  
Holmes looked me right in the eyes. Something stirred inside of me. I had never been attracted to a man before, but somehow his dark, hawk-like features got the better of me. It was if I was face to face with a beautiful lady. I didn't know what to do. I started to remove my arm, but Holmes leaned in closer. I dared not let him go. I held him against me, his warm breath on my neck. He is taller than me, but hunched over, I was a head above him. I kissed him on the forehead as if he were a boy. And then it happened. We both went in for a kiss. It was light and quick, but it was enough to spook the both of us. We immediately separated.  
"Holmes, I—"  
Holmes cleared his throat. "It's not uncommon for friends to have homosexual feelings for one another."  
"But I—I'm—Mary…"  
Holmes nodded. Yes, Mary, my beloved wife was probably fast asleep at our home in Kensington. She trusted me. She trusted Holmes. If we broke her trust…"Have you ever—have you ever had these feelings for me before?" I asked, unsure of whether or not I wanted to hear the answer.  
Holmes held his head up and said, "Yes. Didn't you find it odd that I was unhappy when  
Mary accepted your marriage proposal? Did you think it was because I didn't want to live alone?" He coughed and sputtered, trying to disguise a laugh.  
"No, but—"  
"Well, I don't encourage indulging in emotion, but it may be worth our while to explore these feelings."  
"But my wife—"  
Holmes nodded again, conceding my point. Or so I thought. "In most cultures, it is only adultery when someone engages in the act with opposite sex. And you know this will never leave the walls of 221B."  
I had to admit I found myself rather aroused by the kiss, and even more aroused by Holmes' confession.  
"Alright," I said. "But just for tonight."  
"Just for tonight," Holmes repeated.  
We kissed again, this time with Holmes' tongue entering my mouth. I frantically removed my jacket without interrupting our session. Holmes went for the buttons on my waist coat. He wasn't wearing one. I unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped my arms underneath; the warmth of his skin met my palms. Holmes went for my belt. Desire coursed through my veins. I frantically undid his belt while he pulled off my trousers. Before I could remove his, he dropped to the floor.  
"Just relax," he said, slowly removing my undergarment. However, his request had the opposite effect. My body tensed up with nerves. Was this really happening? Was Holmes really going to…  
"Lie back," he commanded. I did as he asked. He pushed my knees apart, and suddenly I felt his warm, wet tongue against me. It tickled at first. But when he took me in his mouth, I groaned with pleasure. As he continued, I became increasingly more aroused. And just when I was on the verge of ecstasy, he stopped.  
"Now that you're sufficiently prepared, I suppose we should take the next step," said Holmes.  
"The next step?" I asked, panting.  
"Yes." Holmes removed his trousers. "Do you prefer to kiss first?"  
"I uh—I—uh…Mary and I…"  
Holmes, looking slightly annoyed, leaned in and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around him as he toppled over me. I had never felt such a rush of passion. Nor had Holmes I presumed, because he quickly rolled over and straddled me from behind. He kissed my neck, then my shoulder, right on the scar, and on down my back.  
"Tell me if this feels alright," he said.  
I groaned when he slid his fingers inside me. But to my surprise, I rather enjoyed the sensation.  
"Are you ready to go forward?" he asked.  
"Yes, I think so." By now, I was painfully aroused, and one glance over the shoulder at Holmes revealed that he felt the same way. I had been quiet a selfish lover thus far, leaving all the work to him, and offering little in return.  
"Oh," he groaned when he entered me.  
I bit my lip. It hurt more than I had anticipated.  
"Are you alright?" he asked.  
"Yes," I squeaked.  
Holmes slowly rocked against me, and we both found a rhythm that brought us a release. I had never felt more satisfied.  
Once we finished, Holmes rolled off me, opened the drawer of the night stand, and took out a cigar.  
"Care for a smoke," he asked, before bringing it to his lips.  
His immediate withdrawal left me cold and hurt. I was accustomed to lying in bed, cuddling and reminiscing with my lady. But Holmes, being Holmes, proved unable to show such affection. I declined a cigar, more to show my distaste for his actions than my lack of interest.  
"You're cross with me, aren't you?" asked Holmes.  
I said nothing. I lay there naked, brooding, and staring at the ceiling.  
"It was an experiment, Watson. I thought you understood that."  
"Is that what you tell a woman after you make love to her?  
"No, women are far too emotional to handle such a truth."  
I rolled over and glared at him.  
"Besides, I haven't made love to a woman in over a decade."  
My eyes widened. Had he been with other men? He did take the lead tonight.  
He took a long drag on his cigar, and then snuffed it out. "You're my best friend, Watson," he said soothingly. "My only friend. You know I don't let anyone into my life."  
His words dampened my hurt. He smiled and smoothed back my hair.  
"Roll over," he said.  
I merely starred in confusion.  
"Come on. Roll over."  
I did as he asked, and he began to stroke my back with his finger tips. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.  
The next morning, I quietly dressed and crept out of the apartment so as to not wake the sleeping Holmes. I hailed the first cab that passed. As I made my way home, I thought of Mary. I thought of climbing into bed and curling up beside her. Holmes was right. It was only an experiment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson returns to 221 Baker Street to assist Holmes with a new case despite their unresolved feelings.

Holmes and I had not spoken in weeks. The last I saw of him, he was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of my escape. I returned home that morning to find my wife, Mary, in the same condition. When she awoke, she didn't suspect a thing. She and I went on as we always had, and I put that night with Holmes behind me.  
You can imagine my surprise when Holmes rang during breakfast. My wife stood in the kitchen making small talk, before handing me the phone.  
"Watson, you must come over at once. I have an extraordinary new case on my hands."  
"I—"  
"Come quickly, please."  
Before I could say another word, he'd hung up. My heart pounded. I felt weak, as though I would faint.  
"Are you alright, John," Mary asked, before guiding me to the sofa.  
"Yes. I felt light headed for some reason. But I'm alright now."  
"Do you want a glass of water?"  
"No. I'm alright. But would you sit with me for a minute?"  
Mary did as I asked. I took her hands and gazed into her pale blue eyes, noting her concern.  
"Did Holmes say something that upset you?"  
"No," I said with a slight laugh. "No, he—it's not Holmes." But it was Holmes. I felt sick with guilt over what he and I had done. Over what I had done to Mary. "I'm not sure what came over me. I'm feeling alright now." I forced myself to smile.  
"Are you sure? Maybe you shouldn't go out if you aren't feeling well. I know how much your help means to Holmes, but—"  
"I'll be just fine." I stroked her light blonde hair, and leaned in to give her a kiss. "I'll only be but a few hours," I said, getting up.  
Mary laughed and waved dismissively.  
###  
On my way to 221 Baker Street, my nerves got the better of me. I nearly lost my breakfast two blocks away from the apartment. I debated turning back, unsure of how I was going to face Holmes. But I couldn't abandon our friendship over this. I had to press on.  
I heard the violin as I walked up the stairs. Holmes had to be deep in thought. While struggling to find my key, the music grew louder. Then it stopped. I opened the door with shaking hands and peeked around the corner.  
"Come in! Come in!" Holmes cried cheerfully. "You won't believe the case we have on our hands."  
I barely had time to remove my coat before Holmes dragged me into the living room.  
"Look at this," he said, holding up an unmarked envelope. "I found it in the mailbox this morning."  
"What am I looking at?"  
He looked at me as if to say, "You ought to know better than that." Then he handed it over. It contained a lady's gold wedding band, nothing more.  
"From your ex fiancée, I presume?"  
Holmes scoffed. "You know I have no time for such drivel."  
Being a newlywed, I couldn't help but feel a bit taken aback. However, this was coming from Holmes, who had no use for anyone who wasn't involved in one of his cases. I sighed to myself. "And what do you think it means? Is it a message from someone?"  
"Indeed it is. And I intend to find out from whom. Take a look inside, Watson. A date is engraved. The wedding date, to be sure."  
I looked closely, and sure enough, May 3, 1886 was carved inside.  
"Come to the courthouse with me. We'll check the date against the ledge, and find out which unhappy couples tied the knot that day."  
"But what if they didn't get married in London."  
Holmes wagged his finger at me. "Ah, you're finally thinking like me, my dear Watson." His eyes locked with mine. He cocked his head and said, "You look a bit green. Are you feeling alright?"  
It took the master of observation this long to notice? "I'm fine," I said flatly, trying to ignore my stomach.  
We stood inches apart. Starring at each other. Listening to each other breathe. And just when I was sure I would crack, we rushed into each other's arms, kissing hungrily. Feeling his body against mine, I was consumed with desire.  
"To the bedroom?" Holmes panted.  
I nodded.  
He took my hand and we rushed, like children, into the bedroom. But I was determined not to let him have his way with me this time. I frantically unbutton Holmes' waistcoat and slid it off. He tried to reach for my own, but I stopped him. We went in for another kiss while I undid his shirt. He went for my belt. I swatted his hand away, and went for his.  
Once he was completely undressed, I pushed him back on the bed and began kissing the length of his torso.  
"Oh my God, John," he panted. "I think I'm enjoying this side of you."  
I said nothing. I simply continued my way downward, taking Holmes in my mouth as he had done to me last time. He moaned above me. Suddenly, I felt his long fingers running through my hair. I looked up. He had propped himself up with one arm, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. For a second, we made eye contact. But the intimacy of it spooked me, and I stopped. Holmes pulled me in for another kiss. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my hands. Holmes started unbuttoning my waistcoat. I let him this time. We kept kissing while I wiggled my way out of my clothes.  
"It's my turn to be on top," I said playfully.  
A grin spread across Holmes' face. "I suppose it is." He flipped over and leaned onto his forearms, waiting for me.  
Suddenly, that nervous feeling rose back into my chest. Was I going to go through with this? Holmes obviously wanted me to.  
"Well?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.  
"I don't want to hurt you."  
"You're not going to hurt me," Holmes said with a slight laugh.  
Desperate for some sort of release, I entered him. Holmes groaned loudly. "Are you alright?" I asked.  
"Yes, now start. You can get rough with me. I'll tell you if it's too much."  
I began thrusting against him.  
"Harder," said Holmes. "Harder."  
As I pushed myself deeper inside of him, I bit my lip to stop myself from finishing. I wanted to kiss him…caress him…but I wasn't sure I should. Before I could make another move, he reached back, grabbed my hand, and used it to stroke himself.  
I finished before Holmes, but I stayed inside him. I kissed the side of his neck and nipped at his ear, trying to hurry him along as I continued to stroke him. When Holmes collapsed on the bed, I knew my job was done. I rolled off him and watched him open the drawer and take out a cigar. I refused to let myself get hurt over it this time. Holmes was Holmes. Nothing would change that. But then, after taking a long drag on his cigar, he looked me over and smoothed my hair.  
"How are you feeling now, John?"  
"Much better," I said with a smile. "But we ought to get dressed and go to the courthouse. We have a case to solve."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This fan fic was inspired by the short story "The Five Orange Pips", which appears in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
